


undying

by days4daisy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bruises, Community: seasonofkink, Jotun Thor, Large Cock, M/M, Muteness, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Size Difference, domestic service
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-30 22:22:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15760902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/pseuds/days4daisy
Summary: Thor does not know how a thing of peach skin came to be buried in the snows of Jotunheim. When Thor found him in the ice, the clothes he wore were strange. Thor cut him from his bloody leathers and ripped his cape from his back. The Aesir was a terrible sight, pale as a winter moon. A ring of bruises circled his neck like a noose.





	undying

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Season of Kink bingo square: domestic service/manual labor
> 
> Enjoy!

“Runtling, start the fire.”

“Runtling, this cloak needs mending.”

“The canvas, runtling. Pack it. Tomorrow is market day.”

Thor does not know how a thing of peach skin came to be buried in the snows of Jotunheim. When Thor found him in the ice, the clothes he wore were strange. Thor cut him from his bloody leathers and ripped his cape from his back. The Aesir was a terrible sight, pale as a winter moon. A ring of bruises circled his neck like a noose.

“Runtling, the roots on the other side of the moor require tending.”

“Runtling, more wood.”

“My axe, runtling - clean it and ready my load. I set out in the morrow.”

The Aesir known as Loki does not speak. He no longer can, Thor assumes. Loki’s sounds are rare. Voiceless exhales of laughter or sharp, startled gasps. Soft, hissed pain and whispered moans of sickness. Thor learns his name through mouthed syllables alone.

Loki’s silence is the main reason why he still lives. Thor relishes the solitude of a mountain life. Words are an accessory to Thor, an unnecessary burden. The Asgardian race, on the other hand, indulges in grand, flowery speeches. So much talk to prove themselves mighty!

But Thor's charge, it seems, has had his voice stolen. His silence is welcome, as is his labor.

“Runtling, prepare the traps. We will set them at nightfall.”

“More wine, runtling.”

“Runtling.”

The hearth has been lit, Thor’s favor to his Aesir. A hood is drawn over midnight hair, and flames dance across Loki’s face. Around his neck, the bruises remain, a blossoming field of purples and reds.

Loki stares into the darkness at ghosts Thor cannot see. He travels long distances as the midnight winds howl. There is pain in him that Thor has no way of knowing. For one of few times in Thor's life, the silence has become stifling.

“Runtling,” Thor repeats, and Loki raises his head. How odd and white he is, how delicate his skin. “Prepare my bath.”

The Cave of Ragnir, dwelling of the frost giant Thor, houses one of the freshest springs in all of Jotunheim. Its waters are clear blue, pure as the rivers of Vimur. Before this spring, Thor sheds his loincloth. Loki waits, two feet his lesser, to relieve Thor of his garments. 

The spring embraces Thor like a lover’s kiss. He dips under and reemerges, blond hair soaked and horns dripping.

Thor holds out a hand. “Come,” he says. Loki’s flush of surprise makes Thor chuckle. “Do you fear me?”

Loki shakes his head, and Thor knows it is true. Whatever the reason, the runtling does not fear Thor. Perhaps Loki does not recognize the dangers this realm presents. An Asgardian in Jotunheim - the things Thor’s brethren would do to a creature like Loki!

Thor baits his charge with low, patient eyes. “Show yourself then,” he says.

Loki is a mountain of obstruction - furs, boots, tunic, leggings. When he finally removes all, he stands in stark contrast to Thor. Loki is white and long, lithe and unruned. Only the bruises on his neck blemish him, a collar of unspoken claim. Thor bares pointed teeth at the sight. “Come,” he says.

Loki steps into the spring, greeting its temperature with a wince.

Thor crosses to Loki in three wide steps. Freshwater spills from the deep lines of his chest. "Warm it to your liking,” he allows. “I will bear it.” Thor prepares himself for pain, but the pool’s temperature only rises to a tepid cool. Loki smiles in the aftermath of his odd magic.

Thor gathers him in an arm and devours his scent. Loki’s skin feels strange on Thor's even after all this time. So warm, a prickling that stops short of painful. Loki’s cock is small, but it is pleasant to provoke. A voiceless moan heats Thor’s chest. “I would kiss you,” Thor murmurs. Loki nods permission.

His mouth is so slight, it becomes caged between Thor's lips. Loki’s thighs stretch to fit the girth of Thor’s waist as they sit. Thor scrubs Loki’s hair. Loki tips his head and gasps. 

Thor traces Loki’s damaged throat with a large but gentle finger. “I will kill him,” he growls. “Show him to me.” Loki’s face drains of color, but Thor is not deterred. “Tell me his name, runtling. I will run new rivers with his blood.” Loki lowers wet eyes. He says nothing. 

Thor nuzzles until Loki must lift his head. He catches Loki’s ear with sharp teeth and leaves soft pink scratches on his spine. Loki’s little cock becomes full, tickling Thor’s belly.

“You are not his,” Thor tells him. “You are mine.” A nod. “You have sworn yourself to me, don’t forget. Undying fidelity. You have sworn.” Another nod. Thor tastes the salt of tears on Loki’s face.

He tightens his arms and ruts against Loki’s belly. “How tiny you are,” Thor admires. “How soft.” Loki’s teeth scrape Thor’s jaw like a baby’s scratch.

Thor laughs and cups large hands on Loki’s thighs. Loki bucks, and his eyes lose their focus. “Look at you,” Thor purrs. “What can I give that will not cause you pain? My hands will break you, my cock will split you.”

Loki wheezes, “Thor.” The shape of Thor’s name on Loki’s mouth tantalizes. Thor juts against Loki’s stomach, and Loki trembles like a pulled bowstring.

“If only you were larger! Gods, I would fuck you, runtling, and you would find your voice to scream.” Loki’s eyes narrow. A slight taken, it seems. Thor grins. “Tell me then. What can I give you?”

Loki drapes arms over Thor’s broad shoulders. He hesitates, spread wide, Thor’s large cock at his backside.

Thor’s mouth curls with interest. He grinds forward just enough to make Loki gasp. “Come, stop this,” Thor says, smiling. “Give me your hands, or wrap your legs around me. Let me fuck your thighs, Loki; how firm and smooth they are.”

Loki digs restless fingers into Thor’s shoulders. With a forceful breath, he lowers himself.

By Mimir’s all-seeing wisdom, he is tight! Thor barely enters; he barely _can_. It is not the coiled pressure alone that seizes Thor, it is the _heat_. As ill-equipped as Loki is for Thor’s girth, Thor is ill-equipped for Loki’s warmth. Strange shivers of sensation nibble at Thor’s shaft.

So little of Thor fills Loki, yet Loki’s face is overcome. His cheeks blister red, eyes glassy and drifting. He stammers unsteady breaths and crunches desperate fingers in Thor’s hair. 

Thor feels strong in this moment, and he craves, he hungers. He wraps thick arms around Loki’s waist and snarls into his hair. “You belong to me. You know this?” A nod. Thor drags a thumb across his fevered face. “And I am yours. You know this too?"

Loki looks at him, blinking slowly. After a moment, he nods again. 

Thor rocks forward, but he can only fill to the head. Loki envelops Thor like a too-tight glove. There is no give, only a voiceless moan. The scent of Loki's arousal could induce madness.

With a hum, Thor takes the neglected base of his own cock in hand. He fists, fucking Loki with grinds of his knuckles. Loki’s little prick snags the deepest runes on Thor’s stomach. His eyes shine like stars, wide and wet at the corners. 

Thor chuckles hoarsely. “By the gods, you please me.” Thor sees Loki’s smile though he cannot reply in words.

Eye catching as his mirth is, Thor craves more. As he hands himself, he touches Loki as well. Loki froths against him like a pot come to boil. Such a slight cock, but so needy! Thor plucks him between pinched thumb and forefinger. Soundless breaths stutter from Loki’s lips.

Thor nibbles his jaw and sucks under his ear. Loki’s gaze is all eyelash, a fence of green desire.

His orgasm comes with a coughed cry, a painful sounding rasp from his damaged throat. Loki turns to stone in Thor’s arms, perfectly arched hips and knees hooked to Thor’s body. His little prick milks generously between Thor’s fingers. 

Thor fists himself through Loki's orgasm and smiles lazily at Loki’s spent face. Loki is barely upright, yet Thor’s cockhead is still inside him. So sensitive now! Every twitch of Thor’s shaft spills desperate gasps down Thor’s neck. He urges Loki's thighs wider.

With a groan of satisfaction, Thor brings himself off. Loki’s body swallows for him as his legs go lax. Thor fingers Loki’s wet hair. It is a marvel how an Aesir fits so sweetly to his chest. 

Thor rubs a cheek to Loki’s brow. Affection warms his voice. “What twist of fate carried you to me, runtling?" he murmurs. "Who must I thank for you?”

One word is mouthed against Thor's neck. In Thor’s pleasure, he does not dwell on it. He likely felt wrong, or it is an odd joke of the Aesir.

_Death_ , is Loki's reply. His hands shake in Thor’s hair.

*The End*


End file.
